


you can't regret an ending if you never even let it begin

by SeventhStranger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HP UnHappily Ever After Fest 2020, No HEA, Sad, because Draco bribed her, because he's Draco, dramione - Freeform, working together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24342367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeventhStranger/pseuds/SeventhStranger
Summary: Ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts, a wasting disease has overtaken the Wizarding community. Determined to find a cure before time runs out, Hermione Granger discovers an unexpected ally in Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13
Collections: HP UnHappily Ever After Fest 2020





	you can't regret an ending if you never even let it begin

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Tom Felton song Take Me Away.
> 
> A huge, heartfelt thank you to my alpha unbreakable_vow and beta StormageddonDarkLadyOfAll. As always, hugs and kisses to the absolutely lovely gracefulhearts. This story would not exist without your help and encouragement.
> 
> Any mistakes are mine, as usual I kept messing around after editing.
> 
> All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling.
> 
> Fic was written for the HP Unhappily Ever After Fest. There is no HEA.

Hermione Granger stood on the main street in Hogsmeade, frowning while studying the newest storefront. It was freshly painted with a tasteful sign near the upper windows that read, in capital letters, POTIONS, and under that, in smaller letters, AND POTION INGREDIENTS. Under the sign hung flower boxes full of red tulips. There was a blooming asphodel shrubbery in a pot near the entrance.

The witch paced back and forth in front of the leaded glass window before combing her hands through her bushy hair. Gathering herself, she took a calming breath and straightened her posture, then reached out a hand and wrenched open the door.

A chime rang cheerfully and Hermione glanced around. The shelves were stocked with bottles and flasks, their contents neatly labelled. There were staggered rows of bushels against one wall and baskets overflowed on sturdy tables. Bunches of fresh flowers brightened the corners and the spaces between the merchandise. The atmosphere of the store was inviting, the dark wood offset by warm fairy lights.

Dismissing the welcoming environment, Hermione marched toward the back of the establishment, heels clacking on the slate floor. Approaching her destination, she saw the rumors were true. 

Draco Malfoy had been absent from the Wizarding World since the Battle of Hogwarts ten years ago, and now he was back. He stood behind an ornate mahogany counter, writing with a crisp raven quill, wearing expensive black robes and supple leather gloves topped with his Malfoy crest ring. 

When she reached him, he didn’t look up. 

She stood there for a moment, glaring at him, then cleared her throat. 

Malfoy continued writing.

Annoyed, Hermione rang the bell on the mahogany surface harder than necessary and dropped a rolled parchment next to it, lips pursed and posture fixed. 

Draco’s eyes flicked up in annoyance. “I’ll be right with you.” 

For a moment Hermione contemplated leaving. She was a business acquaintance of the owners of both apothecaries in Diagon Alley, however, and knew neither would be willing to procure what she needed. 

She took steadying breaths and forced herself calm, because when it came down to it, Draco Malfoy was her only option. 

A full minute later, Draco put down his quill, marked his place in the ledger, and addressed her. His eyes were cold and grey. 

“May I help you?” Malfoy’s drawling voice emphasized the word ‘help’ in a way that set her teeth on edge.

Hermione picked up the parchment and handed it to him. “I would like to purchase these items, please.”

He unrolled her list, scanned it, rolled it back up and handed it to her without a flicker of recognition. “Impossible.”

“What do you mean impossible?” she hissed, “It says right on the sign outside that this shop has potions and potion ingredients. And I need these ingredients!”

“Do you have any idea how much all of this is going to cost? Fifty fairy wings alone will cost you thousands of galleons. Are you planning to rob Gringotts to pay for this order?” 

She wilted a bit under his scornful gaze.

“How I pay is my business,” she replied curtly, swallowing her disappointment. She knew the wings were rare, but she hadn’t realized how expensive. “But, for now, I’ll just take the bottom portion of the list and . . . one fairy wing.”

He snatched the parchment and spun away from her, disappearing through a curtained doorway. 

Hermione peered around the shop while she waited. A few wizards had come in and were perusing the shelves. Off to the side, a small group of witches were clustered, giggling and whispering and eying the doorway where Malfoy had vanished. Hermione scoffed. They could have him. He might be attractive, in a cold, pureblood way, but he was obviously still an arsehole. 

Draco re-emerged with her purchases individually wrapped. He added up the cost, accepted Hermione’s galleons and placed the smaller packages into one large parcel, tying it neatly with twine and handing it to her. 

He had been completely rude during the whole exchange, however she was a Gryffindor, a polite person in general, and she needed him. So, she swallowed her pride and said, “Thank you.”

He didn’t answer and she had barely turned away, face red, before the giggling witches stormed the counter in reply to his impatient, “Next.”

\--------------------------------------------------

Hermione strode determinedly to the rear of the potion shop. Draco was in the same spot behind the counter, writing in what appeared to be the same ledger. Today, his robes were charcoal gray. He wore matching gloves, topped with his Malfoy crest ring. Hermione walked straight to the bell and rang it. 

He kept writing.

She stood, trying to keep her irritation down to a low simmer. Eventually, after deliberately setting his quill down, and marking his place as before, he turned his icy glare on her.

“One vial of salamander blood and one fairy wing, please.” 

He filled the order and palmed her galleons without a word.

“Thank you.”

Silence.

\--------------------------------------------------

Hurrying to the back of Malfoy’s shop, Hermione rang the bell. As usual, Draco ignored her, and she bit her tongue to keep quiet. After a minute or so, he gave her his cold attention. The weather outside was unseasonably warm. He was wearing gloves.

“One snake fang and one fairy wing, please.” 

He took her carefully counted galleons and handed her the small parcel. 

“Thank you.”

Silence.

\--------------------------------------------------

Hermione stalked into the potion shop, her unruly hair twisted up into a messy bun. It was the hottest May on record. She’d been to the shop four more times in the past two weeks. Each time, Malfoy had made her wait unreasonably long after she rang the bell. On her last visit he’d neglected her for three full minutes. 

She was done with the damn bell. She stood at the counter with her arms crossed. “Excuse me!”

With a huff of annoyance, Draco set his quill to the side of the ledger, marked his place, and angled his head vaguely in her direction. 

“What do you need?” His voice was clipped. 

“Powdered unicorn horn, one fairy wing and,” her voice, starting out strong, had gotten more and more subdued, “a vial of jabberwock venom.”

He had started to turn away as soon as she began to talk, but stilled at the third item in her order. He pinned her with his glare. “What are you playing at, Granger?” 

She felt a sliver of satisfaction that she’d forced him to acknowledge her. 

Draco’s eyes narrowed and his voice lowered. “You know as well as I do jabberwock venom is a controlled substance.” 

He glanced surreptitiously at the other shoppers in his store. 

A couple of the witches attempted coy waves to catch his eye, which he ignored. 

“Like you care about the rules! I have the money.” Her heart was pounding. She would be heavily fined if he reported her to the authorities. She was already running low on funds with all the potion ingredients she’d been purchasing, but he didn’t need to know that.

He sneered down his nose at her. “Are you trying to set me up? Because you're about as subtle as a hippogriff in a china shop.” 

Hermione weighed her response before speaking in a harsh whisper. “I don’t want to set you up. I’m working on a cure for the wasting sickness. I’ve been experimenting and I think I’m close to a breakthrough.” 

Six months ago, a strange new disease had emerged in the Wizarding world. When afflicted, the victim began wasting away, and in a few months’ time, an otherwise healthy witch or wizard would slip into a coma-like state. No one had died yet of the illness, but neither had anyone recovered. 

When Molly Weasley contracted the sickness, Hermione had decided to start her own research on a cure.

Draco pressed his lips together, his eyes darting around the store before he spoke in a low voice. He was already turning, his gloved hand picking up a quill and making a brisk notation in his ledger. “Return in two days.”

She blinked at him in surprise. A witch was approaching Malfoy, her hips swaying and her expression coquettish. Hermione took a step away. “Thank you.”

He nodded sharply, and briefly met her eyes. 

\--------------------------------------------------

Hermione was getting ready to leave her job at the Ministry for the day. She had fifty galleons with her and hoped it was enough, because she didn’t have more to spare. She had spent all her extra income and most of her savings on potion ingredients.

She tried to ignore the voice in her head whispering this was a terrible idea, that when she offered Malfoy the money for the venom, an auror would jump out and arrest her. Sighing heavily, the witch emerged onto the sidewalk, preparing to Apparate to Hogsmeade. It was a risk she was going to have to take. 

Arriving at the Malfoy’s shop, Hermione was startled to find a tall, handsome man behind the counter in the back of the store. She recognized him as Blaise Zabini from Hogwarts.

“Ms. Granger, please have a seat.” He conjured a chair with a wave of his wand, but as soon as she sat, Draco emerged and requested she join him.

Hermione followed Draco through the doorway and into the stone corridor beyond. He led her to a small room with a wrought iron table and chairs, and she assumed this was where he ate meals while tending the shop. 

He sat and gestured for her to do the same.

“I was able to obtain what you requested.” He slid a slim glass container out of an inner robe pocket and set it carefully before her. 

“Excellent! How much do I owe you?” Hermione held her breath, wondering if she’d be able to afford the price.

“Nothing.” 

“Noth—” She paused, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. “So, you’re _giving_ me the venom?” 

That certainly set off her internal alarm.

“Not exactly.” One gloved finger slowly rolled the vial back and forth on the table, the red liquid inside so murky it was nearly black. “I’m making you an offer.”

Arms crossed, she glowered at him. “No. Absolutely not. I’ll purchase it outright, like we agreed.”

Draco picked up the vial between two elegant fingers. “Funny, I don’t remember an agreement.” He reclined in the chair, studying her. “As I was saying, it’s not for sale. Only for barter.” His smirk reminded her how very much she disliked him.

“Barter? Barter!?” She jumped up from her chair so fast it fell over. “I should have known you’d try something underhanded, Malfoy!” 

Her fingers were twitching to draw her wand and hex him into next week. She stood there, huffing, her face bright red. “I can’t believe I trusted you!”

Draco’s expression was mocking. “Sit down, Granger. You don’t know what I’m offering.”

Suddenly Hermione was mortified at her reaction, that she’d given him so much power. “Fine.” She deliberately righted the chair and sat, scowling, “Fine, Malfoy. What are your terms?”

He leaned forward, offering her the vial in his open palm. “My terms are simple. We collaborate to find a cure.”

She stared at him, confused. Malfoy hated her. There must be a catch. Her mind whirled.

He sneered as if he could read her thoughts. “No catch, Granger. I want a cure as much as you do. We’ve both been experimenting. It would be beneficial if we combined our knowledge.”

She fidgeted in her seat. It made sense, except this was Draco Malfoy. “Oh sure, we’ll work together, so you can patent the cure and charge whatever you want and become even wealthier off all these sick people?” The righteous anger rang in her words.

His fingers snapped shut over the vial and he snatched his fist back, a flush blooming on his pale cheeks. “I don’t give a damn about the money!”

Hermione recoiled at his menacing growl. 

“Can you imagine for one second that maybe I’m not just a selfish prick and that I want this, too?” Malfoy’s eyes flashed and his jaw clenched as he loudly inhaled then exhaled, visibly attempting to calm himself.

“You know what? Here,” he held the venom out to her again, the vial balanced on his flat palm. “Take the fucking thing.”

Hermione stared at his hand doubtfully.

“Take it!” he roared, thrusting his hand at her.

Hermione plucked the vial from his hand. She stood and stalked to the door. Glancing back, she saw his head dropped into his hands, fingers laced in his pale hair.

“Have you,” she spoke uncertainly before taking a step towards him. “Have you tried the jabberwock venom yet?” 

\--------------------------------------------------

Hermione woke early. The temperature was already hot, so she decided to forego robes and wear a pair of jean shorts and a tank top. She collected the entirety of her notes and a selection of books she thought might be helpful. Everything was placed into her beaded bag with the undetectable extension charm. After eating breakfast, she Apparated to Hogsmeade. 

She fought through the Sunday morning shopping crowd and was blessed with magically cooled air when she finally wedged herself inside the front door of the potion shop. The interior was packed with customers. She maneuvered herself between them, towards the back of the store, where she could hear Blaise Zabini’s resonant voice. “Sorry, ladies, Mr. Malfoy won’t be in today, but don’t worry, I can assist with all your potion needs.”

Several obviously disappointed women shifted towards the exit while the remaining witches focused their charms on Blaise. The boldest one was cooing and touching his hand as she asked about love potions. 

At that moment, Blaise noticed Hermione and grinned at her. “Hey Granger, go on back.”

Draco was leaning against a wall on the other side of the doorway with his arms crossed, scowling. As soon as he spied Hermione, he whirled around, wordlessly walking back through the narrow stone passage. 

She followed, rolling her eyes.

They passed the room where they had discussed the jabberwock venom and continued to an arched entranceway. Inside was a high-ceilinged area with a massive fireplace. There were runes for protection and safe travel carved around the rough stone opening.

Once in front of the hearth, Draco finally looked at her, his eyes travelling slowly from her pink tank top to her cutoff shorts to her sandals and back up. Without a word, he scooped up some powder and tossed it into the Floo. Growling “Malfoy Manor,” he pushed her in.

Seconds later, a disorientated Hermione stumbled out of the green flames into the expansive parlor at Malfoy Manor, fuming. Draco strode out behind her, gliding over the marble floor in his expensive robes and dragon hide shoes. 

“You—” She was spluttering in fury, so angry she couldn’t even form a cohesive sentence. “How dare you—” 

Her eyes darted around the room and a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. This was where she had been tortured by Malfoy’s crazy Aunt. This was where she’d screamed out in pain and no one had saved her. Her breath was coming faster and she felt dizzy. 

He eyed her disdainfully. “This way, Granger. Glad to see you've dressed for the occasion.” 

“Don’t you dare ever touch me like that again!” she exploded. Her anger had allowed her to regain control, her hand unconsciously covering her Mudblood scar. 

Draco didn’t react, continuing to walk until he left the room, out of her sight.

She managed to follow, a bit unsteadily. “Look at me when I’m talking to you! Are you listening to me?!” She ranted at his back the entire way through the house, down a set of stairs and deep into the dungeons, until they arrived at a thick mahogany door. 

Draco drew his wand and muttered an incantation. The door glowed briefly and there was the audible click of a lock releasing. Malfoy swept open the door and bowed mockingly, extending a gloved hand to usher her in. Hundreds of torches flared to life and illuminated the most elaborate potion lab she’d ever seen. She paused, mid-rant, to gape in wonder.

“Go on in, Granger.” Malfoy drawled. “You have full use of the lab.”

Hermione was still upset, but grudgingly admitted to herself she was also excited. 

She marveled at the shelves that were set into the walls and stretched to the ceiling. They were loaded with row upon row of ingredients, each vessel and jar identified in precise handwriting. Cauldrons were stacked immense to small, including one made of diamonds and another of pure gold. There was a rolling ladder that extended up the wall to access the highest reaches and at least fifty different types of scales arranged in a cabinet.

She sniffed before answering. “I mean it, Malfoy. You either treat me as an equal or I won’t come back.” 

Draco didn’t answer but by the twist of his mouth, Hermione knew he heard. 

They sat and Hermione unpacked her scrolls and books. Draco slid a leather-bound journal toward her with a gloved hand. 

He unrolled the first of her scrolls and charmed it to stay open as she pursued his notes. 

“Impressive, Malfoy.”

His neat penmanship filled the pages with theories, ingredient lists, and experiment results.

“Yours, too,” he reluctantly admitted. “Very thorough. Too bad your handwriting isn’t more legible.” 

Hermione flushed in annoyance and looked up to find him making a note on one of her scrolls, smirking.

They poured over the information, comparing details, before starting new experiments that centered on the jabberwock venom.

\--------------------------------------------------

Eager for another day of potion making, Hermione showered and dressed. Draco was an excellent partner. He was as detailed and meticulous as she was, had clever ideas and challenged her to think of new ways to utilize ingredients. She had taken a month of vacation from her job at the Ministry to focus all her time on the cure and was hopeful that with Malfoy’s help there would be success.

Hermione Apparated directly to the gates of Malfoy Manor, avoiding the potion shop entirely, and was startled to see a handful of witches standing there. They were chattering excitedly and one was waving a copy of _Witch Weekly_ featuring a “Most Eligible Bachelor” headline. Draco’s lip curled over and over into a scowl on the moving cover. 

Luckily she didn’t have to figure out a way to bypass the women, because just then a tiny house elf with big ears and a white lace dress popped into existence next to her. The elf bowed and proudly introduced herself as Rebecca, asking for Hermione’s hand before Apparating her into the Manor. 

Hermione followed Rebecca to the lab and noticed Draco already there. He was bent over a cauldron, painstakingly adding gurdyroot with one of his gloved hands.

“Rebecca, please adjust the wards to permit Ms. Granger use of the Floo.” He spoke distractedly, perusing a nearby shelf before selecting a tall decanter of flobberworm mucus.

“Of course, Master Draco,” the elf chirped, bowing and disappearing with a faint pop.

“Thanks, Malfoy, you have quite a crowd out there.” 

He ignored her comment. “Granger, look at this.” 

She walked over and peered into his cauldron. 

“I think you were onto something with the jabberwock venom.” Draco charmed a wooden ladle to keep stirring counterclockwise and opened his journal. “Yesterday, I added a crushed fairy wing I’d stewed in a solution of fluxweed. Just now I added a pinch of rue. This appears promising.” 

They worked side by side for hours, separating the original mix into dozens of smaller batches they could add to, consulting each other often on components and outcomes. Rebecca brought them lunch and then dinner, which they ate while tending the cauldrons. 

“If you wanted to cut today short, I’ll finish up here.” Hermione cast a spell over one of the cauldrons to judge the temperature of a thick brown emulsion.

“What? No.” Draco didn’t look up as he transferred a lumpy blue mixture from a copper cauldron to an iron one. 

“I mean,” Hermione stirred a yellow stew precisely six and one half times and added a bit of vervain, watching as it clouded to a sickly green, “there are quite a few witches outside that seem to be interested in spending time with you.”

Draco blanched. “I have no interest in any of them.” 

He picked up a quill and dipped it into a bottle of ink, scratching into his parchment harder than necessary.

“Some of them are really pretty.”

His mouth twisted into a scowl. “I don’t care about pretty. Whatever it is you’re doing right now, stop it.” 

Hermione shrugged and moved to another cauldron, agitating a mixture that had the smell and consistency of congealing bile.

They toiled late into the evening, weaving around each other comfortably as they measured and stirred, only speaking about the task at hand and only when absolutely necessary.

Hermione wanted to wait for her final potion to boil another hour when —

“Granger!” 

She jolted awake, embarrassed to have drifted off.

“Rebecca,” Draco spoke into the air and the elf popped into the room. “Set Granger up in one of the guest rooms.” 

“Yes, Master Draco,” she squeaked.

“Tell me what needs done on your potion, Granger. Then go rest. You can continue tomorrow.”

Hermione explained, and then allowed Rebecca to lead her to a room. Draco had to be exhausted, too, but she knew better than to say anything to him about it. The guest room was cheerful, decorated in unexpectedly warm colors. She climbed into the tall bed and burrowed under the fluffy comforter. It was hot outside, but the Manor was cool, and soon, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

\--------------------------------------------------

Hermione had slept surprisingly well. She showered and performed _Scourgify_ on her clothing. As she was tugging her hair back into its unruly bun there was a knock on the door. 

At Hermione’s call of “come in,” Rebecca entered the room, a tray of food hovering in the air behind her.

“Time for breakfast, Miss Hermione.” 

“Thank you, Rebecca. Would you like to eat with me?” 

“Oh yes, Miss!”

As Rebecca waved her hand, a linen covered table and two chairs appeared. Then the elf levitated the food to land in the center of the oak surface.

They ate, Rebecca chattering happily, and when they were done, she led Hermione to the lab. Draco wasn’t there yet, so she examined the potions they’d created the day before, making detailed notes.

An hour later, Draco arrived. He looked tired and his hair was damp from his shower. He wore trousers, a simple button down and gloves.

He joined Hermione, examining the potions they’d completed and, after consulting her, withdrew two that seemed the most promising. Before she realized what he was doing, he extracted the cork from the first one and sipped it. 

Hermione watched, horrified. “Malfoy! That is stupid and dangerous!”

As she was speaking, he pulled the cork from the second and sipped it as well.

“You can’t drink two at once! You’re going to end up in St Mungo’s.” She plucked the vials out of his hands. “That is the most careless thing I’ve ever seen!”

Draco inspected the ceiling briefly. “See? I’m fine. Now for testing.” He grabbed for the vials she was holding, his gloved fingers brushing hers, but she held tight.

“At least wait to see if you have a reaction,” Hermione insisted hotly. “Give it a few hours while I monitor your — ”

Draco snatched the vials out of her hand. “You don’t understand, Granger. There is no time.” He moved away from her. 

“Wait! Where are you going?” 

“Stay here. I won’t be long.”

“I’m coming with you, Malfoy.” Hermione was on his heels as he walked from the room. “I need to examine the results, as well.”

“Fine.” He glared at her, annoyed, but relented. “Don’t get in the way.” 

Hermione followed him out of the dungeons and into the Manor, expecting him to lead her to the Floo. She was confused when instead he led her farther into the dwelling, stopping at the closed door of a room in the south wing. The door opened to a lush bedchamber, and Hermione was dismayed to see a pale, thin Narcissa curled up in the enormous bed.

Hermione hung back as Draco approached his mother, laying a gloved hand to the side of her sallow face. Her eyelids fluttered open. 

“Draco.” Her voice was a whisper and his eyes softened as he gazed at her.

“Mother,” he gazed fondly down at her, “I have potions for you to try. I’ve been working on a cure with an . . . acquaintance. From Hogwarts.” 

Narcissa’s eyes flicked around the room, landing on Hermione. 

“Mother, you remember Hermione Granger.” 

Hermione awkwardly shifted from foot to foot. “Hello, Mrs. Malfoy.” 

Narcissa smiled weakly. “Hello, Miss Granger.”

Hermione stepped alongside Draco to assist in administering the first potion, gently raising Narcissa in bed as he held the vial to her lips. When she was finished, he flourished his wand, running a few diagnostic spells. Next, he insisted Hermione take a few hours to herself before they were to administer the second potion.

Hermione returned to her home, deciding to change her clothes, touch base with a few friends, and check on Molly. 

She made a Floo call to the Burrow and was immediately greeted by Ron’s tense face. Molly had gotten weaker. The Weasley matriarch was conscious but she was unable to eat much or stay awake for longer than a couple of minutes at a time.

With renewed determination, Hermione rejoined Draco at Malfoy Manor in time to help dispense the second potion. She held her breath as he ran the diagnostics, but nothing had changed. 

Narcissa stretched a quavering hand towards Draco, and he smiled bravely at her. He enclosed her dainty hand in his large one and smoothed her silky blonde hair. 

“I love you, my son. I’m so proud of who you’ve become.” 

Hermione heard her breathy words and retreated a bit to give them privacy. 

“I love you, too, Mother.” Draco’s voice was rough with emotion.

“I—” Narcissa didn’t finish as her body stiffened and her eyes rolled into her head. Almost immediately, she relaxed down into the downy sheets of her bed as Draco’s cracked voice shouted, “Mother!”

Malfoy bent down, his right hand white-knuckled on his wand. “She’s breathing,” he said, grimly, performing the diagnostic spells again. His mother had slipped further into the wasting disease. 

Leaving Narcissa under Rebecca’s care, Draco led Hermione to the Malfoy family library. As soon as they entered the cavernous, magically warded collection of rooms, he started yanking books off the shelves. It was her third visit, so she was familiar with the layout, making selections carefully. When they had amassed a stack of texts, they levitated them to the potion lab where they could easily be referenced.

Malfoy opened the first of the books and began flipping pages, brow furrowed in worry. He murmured to himself and scribbled notes, running his hand through his hair repeatedly.

“When I was a little girl and I was upset, my Mum would bake my favorite chocolate chip cookies. They always made me feel better. Your Mum loves you very much, I can tell.” 

Attempting to comfort him, Hermione laid her hand on Draco’s arm. She was horrified when he flinched roughly and scrambled off his stool, putting distance between them. 

His gloved hand covered the spot on his arm she’d touched. He glared at her and snarled, “Don’t touch me!”

Flushed with embarrassment and anger, Hermione levitated a heavy emerald cauldron to a spot on the table farthest from him. It thumped down harder than she’d intended. She couldn’t look at him the rest of the day.

\--------------------------------------------------

Time passed quickly, the days blurring together. Hermione requested a leave of absence from her job, against the advice of her friends. A fragile truce had developed between her and Malfoy. They talked extensively of potions and potion making, but anything personal was strictly off limits. She made sure not to touch him, even by accident.

It was nine o’clock at night after another fruitless day of mixing regents and overseeing cauldrons. Draco had gone missing for a couple of hours, and she knew he sat with Narcissa. He had just re-entered the lab when Rebecca popped into existence, startling them both. 

She held out a scroll that dwarfed her tiny hand, “This came for you, Miss.”

Hermione scanned the scroll. It was from Ron. Molly had slipped into unconsciousness and they weren’t able to rouse her. The scroll fell from the witch’s hand and she sagged against the table, bowing her head. “It’s Molly. She won’t wake.” 

Fighting to keep from weeping outright, Hermione couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. She was stunned when Draco rested his gloved hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, Granger.”

His voice was gruff but sincere, and when he asked if she wanted to call it a day or continue, she asked him if she could bring some clothes to the Manor and stay in the guest room so she could dedicate more time to their work. 

He consented immediately. 

\--------------------------------------------------

The next day, despite her resolve, Hermione had difficulty concentrating. The thought of Molly, lying catatonic at the Burrow, was breaking her heart. She was distracted and had already ruined a cauldron full of potion. She’d mentally cringed when she caught Draco grimace when she’d had to vanish ten hours’ worth of work. She felt even worse when he marched out of the lab, returning after fifteen minutes, pointedly refusing to look at her. 

Rebecca appeared a little while later with a plate of chocolate chip cookies, and Hermione was so overcome she burst into tears. Draco waved off her thanks, but she caught him watching her as she sniffled and ate three cookies in a row.

“Granger, why don’t you take the evening off?” It was approaching dinnertime and they only had a handful of potions simmering.

Hermione had been reading an old alchemical book she’d found, taking notes on a parchment laid out next to a softly boiling cauldron. She swivelled on her stool to peer at Malfoy, wondering if this had anything to do what had happened earlier.

“You could go visit the Weasleys.” He looked uncomfortable.

“You want me to visit the Weasleys.” 

Her incredulity made him grimace. “If you wanted to.”

She offered a smile. “I really do.”

\--------------------------------------------------

Hermione Floo’d to the Burrow, a basket brimming with a lovely dinner Rebecca had prepared levitating behind her. Entering the dining room, she was immediately comforted by the familiar inviting space. 

She was met by Ron and Harry, both of whom looked tired and sad. She rushed to them, catching them in a three-way hug, and they all had tears in their eyes when they broke apart. 

“How is she?” Hermione fought to keep her tone even.

“She’s — ” Ron’s voice cracked and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “The same.”

Arthur entered the room. He was uncharacteristically thin and haggard. In place of his normally boisterous demeanor, he was subdued as he asked, “Do you want to see her, Hermione?”

“Very much, Mr. Weasley.” Hermione went to him, enfolding him in a tight hug.

“Draco Malfoy and I are trying to develop a cure,” she told him. “He’s a really good potioneer. I promise we won’t stop until we find it.” 

“Thank you, my dear.” Arthur managed a weary smile.

“If anyone can discover a cure it’s you. I believe in you, ‘Mione.” Ron squeezed her hand then tugged her towards one of the many hallways in the Burrow.

They reached the master bedroom, and Ron ushered her forward. Ginny and George sat on either side of Molly, their eyes red and swollen. They rose when they saw Hermione. 

After embracing her friends, Hermione sat alone with Mrs. Weasley. She found a brush on the bedside table, and picked it up, brushing Molly’s curls as she talked to her, making an effort to speak positively as she reminisced about favorite memories and told her she loved her. 

When she was ready to rejoin the others, Arthur took Hermione’s place next to his wife. He gently lifted her hand and pulled it into his lap, whispering, “I’m here, Mollywobbles,” in a choked voice. 

Hermione stayed late into the night. Even with the air of melancholy at the typically cheerful Burrow, Hermione was thankful to be there. After she had found out her parents had been killed by Death Eaters during the war, the Weasleys were her only family. She was grateful that after she and Ron had ended their brief relationship Molly had told her she was still welcome anytime. She left more determined than ever that she would not rest until this horrible disease was cured.

\--------------------------------------------------

“Okay Malfoy, I have to ask.” 

They were back in the lab. Hermione felt rejuvenated after a good night’s slumber and being able to visit her adopted family and friends. Currently, she was grinding moonstone with a mortar and pestle. Draco was hunched over a set of small cauldrons, adding lacewing flies to one and comparing the consistency between them. 

“Grab me the mandrake root, will you?”

Hermione set the pestle down and searched the shelves. Selecting a bottle, she handed it to him. “What’s with the gloves?” 

She wasn’t sure where her boldness had come from. Malfoy was notoriously private regarding anything personal, so she’d been afraid to ask. After spending time with the Weasley’s, it appeared their candid honesty had rubbed off on her. 

His eyes darted her way before refocusing on his potions. “It’s a long story.” 

“We have plenty of time.”

“I . . . have a medical condition. It’s a matter of life and death that they remain on.”

Hermione opened her mouth but before she could speak, Draco continued.

“The subject is closed, Granger.” 

Hermione dutifully remained silent as she added the moonstone into a suspension of nightshade and dittany. But she couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. 

Shortly after their discussion, Draco excused himself to visit with Narcissa. When he came back, he was more withdrawn than he had been in a long time.

\--------------------------------------------------

“Ugh.” Hermione lowered her head into her hands. It had been a week since she’d visited the Weasleys and none of the potions that had seemed so full of potential had panned out. 

Draco scowled at her, but he didn’t really look angry. He mostly looked exhausted. 

“What are we doing wrong, Malfoy?” She peered up at him, frustrated. “I feel like we’re missing something obvious.”

“Maybe we need to go through those again.” He waved a hand at the massive pile of books they’d brought from the library. The texts were currently stacked in two tall, unsteady columns along the far wall.

“Maybe we need to go through the other books.” Hermione had refused to use the dark magic texts Draco had offered, the ones held under enchanted lock and key deep in the Manor. But the wasting disease had claimed its first life, and she was more determined than ever to find a cure. 

“It’s about time you saw reason.” 

Hermione kept silent. She knew Draco had already used some of the recipes detailed in the forbidden books, although she’d ordered him not to.

Draco grabbed a sky blue vial and tipped it into his mouth. They had modified the recipe for Pepper-Up Potion so the results would last much longer, and they had taken to using it multiple times a day. This enabled them to sleep in short bursts and doubled their brewing capacity. 

“Pass me one of those?” 

“Why don’t you go take a nap instead?” Malfoy’s voice had a forced casual tone. “I can keep an eye on your potions.” 

“Just give it to me! I’m fine!”

Draco’s lips pressed together but he did as she asked, handing it to her and watching covertly as she gulped it down. 

\--------------------------------------------------

After working for days with barely a break, Draco had occasionally taken to drinking himself into a stupor on firewhisky. Sometimes, Hermione was so discouraged she joined him. 

“So,” an inebriated Hermione waved her glass, unsteadily gesturing towards Draco, who was slumped down in a chair. “All those witches, Malfoy. You could have had your pick. Why didn’t you?” 

He took a healthy swig of the amber liquid and let the glass dangle precariously at the end of his gloved fingers. “There was a witch, once. Her name was Astoria.”

Hermione perked up. Draco never talked of his private life. The name did ring a bell, however. “Oh, right. Astoria Greengrass, wasn’t it?” 

Draco inclined his head, frowning.

“Wait,” Hermione suddenly remembered. “Didn’t she . . . uh . . . she passed away, didn’t she?” 

At Draco’s tired nod, Hermione felt a pang of guilt. “She must have been the one, then?”

Draco looked agitated as he contemplated his glass. “She was the only one.” Abruptly, he stood. “I’m going to check on Narcissa.” 

He got unsteadily to his feet and made for the door as Hermione reached for a Sobering draught. She drank it down hastily, gave it a moment to kick in, and heaved herself up to check on their potions. 

\--------------------------------------------------

Another month flew by. Molly and Narcissa slept on, alive but barely. 

Their world had become a troubled place, as more and more magical folk succumbed to the sickness. Hermione had tried to keep herself isolated from bad news, but occasionally Draco had Rebecca deliver a Daily Prophet and she could have kicked herself for reading the headline on the latest issue: WASTING DISEASE DECIMATES THE WIZARDING WORLD. 

Draco walked into the lab, and Hermione looked at him dully. He had been on an extensive Floo call with a few of the foremost potion makers in Wizarding London. She could hardly summon any hope so she was barely disappointed when he shook his head in resignation. 

“They haven’t had any more success than we have.” His voice was unemotional but there was a small twitch at the corner of his eye. “It doesn’t look good.”

Suddenly, with a muted pop, Rebecca was in the lab. She had an oversized hemp basket and multiple trays of food.

She levitated the food to the table and nervously fumbled inside the basket. She removed a folded pile of fabric and approached Draco timidly. 

“Master Draco, I brought you clean clothes.” Her voice was deferential but determined. “Mistress Narcissa would want you to take better care of yourself. After you eat you can shower and change.” 

Hermione noticed there was clothing for her, as well, and was shocked to realize she had been wearing the same outfit for a few days now.

“How dare you.” 

Draco didn’t raise his voice, but Rebecca cowed at his words. 

“How dare you tell me what to do.” Draco’s face was covered in blotches of red and his eyes were narrowed to slivers. “Your job is to care for my Mother! You should be with her right now! Your instructions were to bring us food and care for Narcissa. Other than that, stay out of my business!” 

“I’m sorry Master Draco!” Rebecca burst into tears and made a clumsy bow. “I will attend to Mistress Narcissa!” She Disapparated and the room hung in heavy silence.

Draco stalked over to the table and swept the food onto the floor. Hermione gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth as plates flew across the room and goblets smashed on the stone. 

Malfoy stared blankly at the mess of stoneware and food, his hands trembling. He reached for one of their modified Pepper-Up Potions and swigged it down, paused and drank another. When the second vial was empty, he suddenly raised his arm and threw it against the far wall. There it shattered, the bits of broken glass landing on the ruined dinner and broken plates. 

“Fuuuuuuuck!”

Hermione winced. She knew he was actually fond of Rebecca and that the stress of non-stop brewing, not sleeping, and worrying about his Mother was getting to him. 

He grabbed his wand, and stormed out of the room, leaving Hermione to cast _Scourgify_ at the mess on the floor.

Half an hour later, Draco reappeared with food to replace the dinner he’d destroyed. “I’m sorry for losing it, Granger. I apologised to Rebecca also.” 

Hermione nodded and he continued.

“It feels like all this work has been in vain.”

“We’ll have a breakthrough, Malfoy. I just know it.” Hermione forced herself to smile at him, but on the inside she hated to admit she felt the same. 

\--------------------------------------------------

It had been three months since Hermione and Malfoy had partnered. She had become adept at reading his subtle moods. Sometimes they talked and other times they worked with hardly a word, yet the stretches of silence were rarely uncomfortable.

“Bloody fucking hell.” Draco was sitting across from her, muttering darkly as yet another potion failed. His hair was uncombed and straggly. Discoloration bruised the thin skin under his eyes. He scratched at the stubble which had grown into an untended beard and hitched at the waistband of his pants. His once perfectly tailored clothes were falling off his gaunt frame. 

Hermione grimaced down at her own too-big clothing. She didn’t have any reassuring words left. 

She had been trying to measure out a small amount of powdered bicorn horn, but the tremors she had developed in her hands had made precise work difficult. The modified Pepper-Up Potion had lost its effectiveness, and they had recently turned to a stronger illegal stimulant called Emerald. 

Hermione watched as Draco injected the swirling green liquid into his upper arm. Immediately, his cloudy grey eyes grew alert, his pupils expanded, and he resumed brewing four potions simultaneously. Initially he had tried to keep his use of Emerald secret, but she had caught him at it and, despite his objections, had taken to using it often. 

Without warning, Rebecca Apparated into the room. Today, she was wearing a yellow dress. The elf held a scroll out to Hermione hesitantly, her long ears quivering. “For you, Miss.”

“Thank you, Rebecca.” Hermione made it a point to smile kindly as she accepted the offering. Without reading it, she wandlessly murmured Incendio, and it crumbled into ash. 

She had begun disregarding all attempts by her friends and employer to contact her. She didn’t have an answer for when she would return to the Ministry. The last letter she’d received from Ron told her George had started showing symptoms. She couldn’t afford the distractions; they affected her concentration and her already suffering mental state too badly.

Intellectually, she knew she and Draco couldn’t continue like this, but she squashed that thought as soon as it was formed. The cure was the only thing that mattered now. It mattered more than their comfort, their outside relationships or their sobriety. And Malfoy was the only one who understood.

\--------------------------------------------------

The night Narcissa died, she found Draco in his mother’s chamber. He was half standing next to her bed, his torso draped over hers. His gloved hands were clutching her nightgown and he was sobbing brokenly. 

Hermione retreated with Rebecca to give him privacy, comforting the elf as she cried. When Hermione checked on Malfoy an hour later, he hadn’t moved. 

“Draco,” hesitantly, she placed her hand on his shoulder, remembering well what had happened the last time she’d touched him. He tensed and Hermione braced herself for an outburst. Her breath was taken away when instead he wrapped his arms around her and wept like his heart was broken. 

“I know,” Hermione rubbed his back as he clutched her tight. “I know it hurts. I’m so sorry.” Her own parents had been murdered after the battle of Hogwarts, and she would forever carry that pain tucked away inside her. 

When Malfoy had gone quiet, Hermione gently took one of his gloved hands and coaxed him to follow her to the guest room. She tucked his unresisting body fully clothed into her bed. Hermione walked around to the other side and climbed in with him. They turned towards each other, and his arms encircled her. He burrowed into the crook of her neck and she ran soothing fingers through his hair until eventually his breathing deepened and he slept.

\--------------------------------------------------

Hermione woke alone, quickly showering and dressing. She entered the lab where Draco was finishing up some potions from the day before. 

She looked around, a feeling of melancholy overwhelming her. “I guess I’ll pack my things.” 

“You can use the lab for as long as you want to.”

Hermione was relieved until he continued.

“That way you don’t have to buy a bunch of ingredients you can’t afford.” 

She went rigid, but her initial stab of anger swiftly subsided when she realized she actually couldn’t afford many more ingredients, and the lab that she normally used in her basement was nowhere as extensive as this one. 

“Okay, thank you.” She spoke stiffly, overwhelmed with embarrassment and an emotion she was having a hard time naming, but felt a lot like disappointment.

They toiled in silence until dinnertime. 

“Narcissa will be interred in the family tomb at twilight, next to Lucius. I’m not having a public ceremony.” Draco’s voice was subdued. “It will be me and Rebecca, Aunt Andromeda and Teddy. You are welcome to be there, too. If you’d like.”

She raised her chin to look into his eyes and found him staring intently at her. 

“I’d like that very much.”

As the sun was about to set, Hermione walked to the mausoleum holding a rose wreath she’d conjured. She stood at a respectful distance as Draco, his family and Rebecca said their goodbyes.

When they were done, Hermione placed the wreath on the stately white crypt and began to make her way back to the Manor. Draco surprised her by waiting for her to catch up to him and then lacing their fingers together, the leather of his glove smooth against her bare hand.

That evening, after his Aunt and cousin departed, Hermione encouraged Draco to retire early. He hadn’t slept well the night before, the screams from his nightmares waking her twice. He nodded tiredly, grabbing a mostly full bottle of firewhiskey on his way out.

Hermione stayed up until midnight, paging through a few of the books she wanted to re-read. She wrote down a couple of new ideas and placed a stasis charm on all the potions that were still brewing, then tiredly made her way to her room. 

When she got there, she was amazed to see Draco, lying in her bed. He was shirtless but wore his gloves. The bottle of firewhiskey was barely touched, sitting on the nightstand. 

She changed into her nightclothes and crawled into bed beside him. He immediately reached out, pulling her close.

“I’ve made a decision.” His voice was husky and she wondered if he had waited up for her. “I’m not giving up on a cure, Granger. I’m going to do it in honor of Narcissa.”

She cuddled up against his warm body, her head pillowed on his bare chest. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“I’m done using Emerald,” his voice was fading as he was falling asleep, “and I hope you are, too.”

Hermione tightened her arms around Draco and listened to his steady breathing. Although she felt sadness regarding Narcissa’s death, she also felt a rush of optimism that everything was going to be okay. 

\-------------------------------------------------

Hermione woke, as usual, wrapped around Malfoy, buried in the velvety covers of the bed in the guest room. He was so peaceful in sleep she made sure not to jostle him as she delicately untangled herself and readied herself for the day. 

It had been a painful week after stopping Emerald, but they helped keep each other focused. Now that the cravings had faded, Hermione felt better than she had in months. 

In the lab, she sorted through the notes she had made the night before. She readied acromantula venom and starthistle and arranged three cauldrons to be within easy reach. 

She waved her wand, lighting the fires underneath the cauldrons, and began to brew. 

Draco joined her not long after. “Have you eaten, Granger?” 

“Not yet, I was waiting for you.” 

At Hermione’s words, as if summoned, Rebecca Apparated into the room carrying breakfast. 

“Rebecca, why don’t you eat with us?” Draco had made an effort to be extra kind to the elf since raising his voice to her, and especially since Narcissa had died. 

“Thank you, Master Draco.” Rebecca tugged her long ears and beamed at Malfoy. She climbed up on one of the stools and sat there, obviously happy to be included.

They spent a pleasant day brewing. As soon as they had started eating and sleeping regularly, Hermione happily noticed their productivity had increased exponentially. 

Later, they climbed into bed, Draco in flannel sleep pants and gloves, and Hermione in her pajamas. 

It was inevitable, really, that their sleeping arrangement eventually led to more than sleeping. In bed, he would pull her against him, burying his face in her hair, his gloved hands gripping her tight, and they would drift off to sleep curled around each other. Hermione could feel his desire pressed against her, night after night, but Draco never made a move.

The night that Hermione gently pressed her lips to his changed everything. 

\--------------------------------------------------

In the morning, Hermione was warmed by sunlight streaming in the window. She sat up slowly. Draco was nowhere to be found. Since they had become intimate, they normally woke together, tangled in the sheets. 

She entered the lab. Malfoy stood there, freshly shaven and nicely dressed. 

He watched her approach. His smile was disturbing. “I’ve solved it, Granger. I’ve fucking solved it!”

Moving next to him, she glanced at the parchment he was tapping with a gloved finger. His perfect penmanship was long gone. Splotches of ink, fingerprints and alchemical symbols obscured most of the words scrawled over the page. She tried to make sense of what she was seeing, but there was no mistaking what was written large near the bottom. Unicorn blood.

“Draco! We can’t!”

“Oh, we can. In fact, you could say we already have.” He smirked, showing his teeth, as he pulled a tightly corked flask out of his pocket. The silver blood was opalescent in the flickering light.

Her breath caught. She knew in her gut this was the solution. But there was still a problem. “But they’ll have a cursed life! It may stop the wasting disease, but it’s not a real cure!”

Draco grinned darkly at her. “You’re wrong.” His voice dropped like he was letting her in on a secret. “You only have a cursed life if you take it without permission, if the Unicorn is distressed. This blood was taken consensually.”

Her jaw dropped and she stared at him. Slowly, she nodded. He would use it regardless, but it felt important to let him know she was in this with him. 

They painstakingly compared the potions they’d made so far and added Unicorn blood to the most promising. Then they Floo’d to the Burrow. It hadn’t taken much persuading to convince Arthur to let them test their potential cures on Molly. When Hermione saw her, she understood why.

The Weasley matriarch was grey and wan. Her hair was brittle, her breathing shallow and labored. Hermione blinked back tears as Draco raised her in bed so she could place a small amount of potion in Molly’s mouth, gently massaging her throat so she would swallow it. 

There was no reaction to the first, second or third potions. Draco and Hermione grimly locked eyes, then administered the fourth and final. Arthur and Ginny were hovering in the doorway, hands clenched. Ron was next to them, arms crossed and brows drawn. Hermione gasped and clutched at Draco’s gloved hand when Molly’s eyelids fluttered and then opened. She focused on Hermione standing at her bedside, and gave her a small, tired smile. 

After conducting some diagnostic tests, Draco and Hermione left the room to let the Weasleys spend a few minutes with Molly before insisting she be allowed to rest and instructing the family to contact a healer for follow up.

They re-entered Malfoy Manor, Hermione telling Draco how she was going to personally call on the Minister of Magic and the director of St. Mungos. She wanted to make sure neither of them would be prosecuted for using the forbidden blood. 

Draco smirked just as there was a knock on the door. “No way, Granger. I’m not letting you take the fall for this.”

He opened the door and gave himself up to the aurors that stood there. Hermione stared at him aghast. He must have alerted them himself to his use of the banned substance. No one else had known.

She watched in horror as one of the aurors magically bound Draco and Apparated him away. A half hour later found her in the Minister’s office. An hour later, after explaining everything to Kingsley Shacklebolt, she was on her way back to the Manor. She’d been assured Malfoy would be released and promised Kingsley that Draco would obtain the proper permissions before utilizing any more outlawed ingredients. She hoped Kingsley would forgive her for what was surely a lie.

At the Manor, Hermione found Malfoy in the lab. She walked to him and enclosed him in a hug. After a second of hesitation, he tightened his arms around her and hugged her back. 

“Malfoy,” she sighed his name. It was over. They’d done it.

“Granger.” He pulled away to gaze at her, the corner of his lip curling into a small smile, but his grey eyes were troubled.

Hermione leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. He froze before crushing her to him, shamelessly returning her kiss. 

Abruptly, Malfoy grabbed her arms and pushed her away. His gloves were soft on her skin, his fingers underneath strong and firm. 

“Draco, I—” she began uncertainly but then, like a true Gryffindor, she gathered up her courage. “I love you.”

“No.” Malfoy had begun shaking his head halfway through her speech. “Your feelings aren’t real. We experienced a traumatic event fueled by lack of sleep and misuse of potions. It’s over. It was a mistake.” 

He turned his back to her but she heard him clearly “You need to leave. Now.”

Hermione’s breathing hitched but she stood her ground. “I know you feel something for me, too.”

Draco refused to look at her.

“Tell me you don’t then. Tell me that sleeping with me meant nothing. I need to hear it from you. Tell me you don’t have feelings for me and I’ll go.” Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest.

“I can’t!” Draco spun towards her. “I can’t tell you I don’t feel anything because I feel everything for you! You are the most amazing witch I ever met. And because of that, I need you to leave.” He was breathing fast, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

Whatever it was that had him upset, she was determined they could overcome it. He had feelings for her, too. That was all that mattered. 

She took a step closer to him. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You don’t understand!” His voice was harsh as he backed away from her. “The reason I wear gloves isn’t a medical condition.”

Draco’s grey eyes were burning into her. “The Dark Lord cursed me when I couldn’t kill Dumbledore! It’s some kind of ancient, evil magic. Everyone I touch dies, Granger!” 

He slammed his hands down on the table. “Now, can you guess how I found out? Because Voldemort sure didn’t tell me!” His voice was a brutal snarl. “After the spell, my body was charred. Astoria tried to heal me but when she got to my hands she fell to the ground, dead. I fucking killed her. My touch fucking killed her!” 

Malfoy punched the stone wall, the crunch of bones breaking loud in the stunned silence.

“Draco — that wasn’t your fault!” Her heart broke for him and the guilt he’d been living with.

“Please, Hermione.” He faced the wall, despondent. “I thought maybe I could have a place in this world if I kept to myself and ran my shop, but I was wrong. I was so selfish for sleeping with you, for touching you. I put you in incredible danger and I will never forgive myself. One misstep, that’s all it would have taken. If I ever removed a glove in my sleep, you’d be dead. Do you understand that would kill me, too?” His voice had gotten more and more strained. 

Draco rested his forehead on the cold stone wall of the potion lab, defeated. “Please leave.” 

She reached out for him anyway and he swatted her hand away. Clutching his wand awkwardly in his left hand, he Disapparated. 

Reluctantly, Hermione returned to the guest room. Her mind was racing, plotting a course of action. They would contact Bill Weasley, of course. That would be a good place to start. She had associates all over the Wizarding World, at the Ministry and at Hogwarts. Someone would be able to help. They would discover a cure just like they cured the wasting disease.

\--------------------------------------------------

After a night of fitful slumber, Hermione slowly began to stir then sat up quickly, alarmed. Draco hadn’t come to bed. 

Entering the lab, she registered something was horribly wrong. Rebecca was wailing as she held a piece of parchment out to Hermione, her hand quivering violently. 

Hermione unrolled it and read:

_Granger —_

_I knew you’d come back and I already know what you’ll say, but we can’t be together. I care for you too deeply to ever risk your life again. You would never be safe around me, and I would rather be alone than hurt you._

_I’ve left this place and you won’t see me again. The Manor and potion lab are at your disposal. You are an excellent potioneer, don’t let that go to waste._

_I don’t have the right, but I beg you not to tell anyone of my condition. If you do, there is no doubt I will be hunted down. I’ve done the research. Our world doesn’t allow anyone like me to live free._

_I will never stop trying to counteract this curse. But I don’t want you to wait. I wish things were different, but they aren’t. I only want you to be happy. Please — go be happy._

_Draco_

\--------------------------------------------------

After a year spent searching for Draco, Hermione realized she had no choice but to resume her life. She had quit her job at the Ministry and decided to concentrate on what had become her passion: potions. 

Hermione and Draco kept in touch, but he refused to meet in person or reveal his whereabouts. She had tried to send scrolls via her own owls, but not a single one was able to locate him. The only way she could communicate was to give her letters to the weekly owls he sent her. They poured their hearts out via ink and parchment, their missives cementing their friendship for the rest of their days.

Hermione continued to use the Malfoy potion lab and eventually became one of the wizarding world’s foremost potion masters. She maintained a friendship with Rebecca, who stayed to oversee the Manor and kept Hermione company while she brewed. 

Before Hermione resumed her relationship with Ron, she had begged Draco to come back, but he had gently declined and encouraged her to rekindle her past romance. He told her over and over that he didn't want her to be alone and she deserved to be surrounded by love.

Eventually, Hermione took his advice and rekindled her relationship with Ron. He had matured and shown himself to be a stalwart, loyal friend. He was a kind man and one day would make a wonderful father. When he proposed, she told him the truth — that she loved him, but she wasn’t in love with him. He’d told her he was in love with her enough for the both of them. 

They married on a lovely June afternoon, his family and all their friends in attendance. They were blessed with two lovely children, five grandchildren, eleven great-grandchildren, and a rich, happy life.

Ron was aware of Hermione's friendship with Draco because she never tried to hide it. He never commented on their correspondence or on the way she would sometimes lock herself in the bathroom after receiving one of his letters, emerging with puffy eyes and the need to hold her children close.

Draco never stopped searching for an antidote to his curse, but his attempts were in vain. Hermione ached for him and the lonely, solitary existence he imposed on himself. They hadn’t spent very long together, but she felt as if there was a small piece of him that had settled somewhere in her heart and would never leave. 

\--------------------------------------------------

One day, when Hermione was an old woman, after Ron had passed away and her great-great-grandchildren were grown, she heard a rumor that Draco had been spotted again at Malfoy Manor. His owls had become fewer and fewer and she hadn’t heard from him in over a month. 

Hermione put on her favorite green robes and brushed her grey hair. She knew her end was near. She had trouble doing basic charms, could barely walk, and there were so many things she could no longer remember. 

But she remembered Draco, how handsome and proud he was. How he understood her and challenged her intellectually. How he sacrificed his happiness to keep her safe, and she wondered if the wards would allow her entry as she attempted to Floo into Malfoy Manor for the first time in many years. 

With no resistance, Hermione stepped into the familiar parlor and he was there. Her eyes misted with tears. She didn’t see a white-haired old man, but the strong, determined wizard she had come to love all those years ago. He was standing near the Floo and his radiant smile lit his entire face. He wasn’t wearing gloves.

“Hermione.” He approached her and took her in his arms, gently holding her worn body, careful to touch only her robes.

“Draco.” She smiled at him through her tears. “I’ve missed you.”

They held each other and she leaned in, kissing him tenderly.

His grey eyes bloomed with unshed tears.

“Please, Draco. I’ve waited so long.” 

He drank her in, his Hermione. “I never stopped loving you.”

“Please, my love. It’s time.”

“Whatever you want. Anything. I have missed you so much.” His voice shook with emotion. “What do you want, my darling?”

“I want you to touch me.”

Draco reached out, his Malfoy crest ring glinting in the soft candlelight of the parlor. And for the first time, with tears tracking down his face, with trembling, reverent hands, he touched her.

**Author's Note:**

> The anonymous prompt I chose:
> 
> Your main character is one of the few people afflicted with a literal touch of death. Their touch will kill immediately. Most of these people are deemed dangerous and locked up for life. Your protagonist has managed to hide it from the authorities by never killing anyone. They do this by keeping a low profile in general and wearing gloves at all times. Against their will and better judgement, they fall madly in love with someone(s). But, they can never truly touch them.
> 
> In this story, Draco's touch of death was the result of a curse, so I mostly concentrated on that. Hopefully the prompter still likes what I've done with it :)


End file.
